Appassionato
by noodlefucker
Summary: And so they just watch each other, out of breath, like one day it'll all just click into place.


(Cover photo by ai-wa on tumblr)

 **A/N:** _First fic, here we go. (please point out any discrepancies between events/dates you notice, it's been years since I last played P3P) Although, these few fics I'm just transferring from my AO3 to FFN, so they're almost a year old._

 ** _Nonetheless, reviews are highly appreciated! :)_**

* * *

i.

Minato's been sleeping better now.

No nightmares. Not even dreams. He's on the pillow and out into the day before he knows it, but it's relatively good rest. Maybe things will be okay now. Breathing even all throughout the night, with no boys in striped pajamas on the edge of his bed to tell him of his prophecy and of his inevitable doom (If he were here, Minato knows, Pharos would tell him it isn't over yet.)(Minato doesn't need the boy to tell him that.). He only ever awakens when the moon blares brilliantly in the sky and the city is awash with the green of the hidden world. He never keeps a clock in his room. The incessant ringing in his ears as the hour begins is reminder enough.

And so he sits, night after night, gazing at coffins and bloodied streetlights as he opens his math textbook.

ii.

He trusts S.E.E.S. to find the truth, trusts them to say the right things and do what should be done. When they say it's all over, they defeated the Shadows, they did it, it's done, it's over, he likes to believe them. He doesn't believe himself. It's over, he says, with a smile that prays it could be, it's over.

It isn't over until the transfer student glances over at him and his buoyant smile drops, then glows even brighter.

iii.

Mochizuki means full moon.

Coincidences just don't happen.

iv.

The gaggle of students around Mochizuki-kun has mostly trailed off now, and Junpei approaches him. They talk, and within moments they're arm-in-arm buddies. Yukari stares at them passively as she packs up her books. She asks Minato-kun if he wants to go grab a bite with her and Fuuka before they head back.

Yukari notices he doesn't say a word the entire way to the mall.

She does ask him what's wrong, later. Of course she would. Minato is grateful for her, grateful for everyone, but he wouldn't tell her even if he could.

Apologies long dead on his tongue, leaving a rank taste of silence, he turns and goes up the stairs. There's only one person he can ask. Junpei should be in the dorm tonight.

v.

Minato doesn't call, not that night, nor the day after, nor the day after that. Mitsuru'd even programmed his cell so that it could be used during the Dark Hour, and he wonders now if whatever gods there were had done it just to spite him, just so that he could doubt and mull and think it over for just one hour longer.

He spends all his time at the mall, at the shrine, on the main roads. Thinking, watching, searching, inside and out, and not finding a damned thing.

vi.

There's always something else, he notices. Something beneath the smile, something fleeting, but that's what makes it flash. So one-dimensional, plain, simple, but like the Junpei he's managed to befriend so quickly, there's got to be more to him than that. And that starbust of expression is what he looks for, what he doesn't understand.

He knows him. They both know that. The most innocent of glances, smiles, and words whispered in passing have shown the mystery, stripped it and put it on exhibition.

He doesn't get it.

vii.

Junpei brings him over after school one day. Nothing happens.

viii.

The day after, Ryoji finds him as he comes out of the Velvet Room alleyway at the mall. It's a fitting place, Minato thinks, somewhere in there. Dark, unwelcoming. Ryoji tastes like tears, guilt, and apologies.

A few minutes later, they search in each other's eyes and find no answers.

ix.

Things happen after that. Junpei tries to grow a matching mustache, Yukari gets asked out again, Fuuka dyes her hair the wrong colour. Shinjiro is still dead. Not much has changed.

It's late November.

x.

Minato starts dreaming again. Of a sweeping yellow scarf in the wind, of a moon even fuller than that of the Dark Hour, of wide blue eyes, scared, sorry, and wistful.

He likes to think it's because Pharos has started showing up again. Pharos, with an all-too familiar gaze, Pharos, the mystery that is Pharos, the mystery that they all are. But mostly Pharos, and Ryoji, and those eyes, those damned blue eyes from which he's too scared to look into and even more scared to look away.

It's cold, deathly cold. Mitsuru-senpai had promised to fix the heating on the east side of the building, but everyone's been too caught up in their own things lately. He doesn't blame them. Somehow, everything had gotten even more complicated than before. He's sure, though, that his worries are the least of them.

Still, every night, when the streets turn bloody and green, he can't help but stare at the phone number he'd been given so long ago.

xi.

Aigis knows. Hell, of course she'd know if he was fooling around with anyone, she watches him like a hawk. A good guardian angel would. An angel made of nuts and bolts and an arsenal of bullets, but she is sweet and well-intentioned nonetheless.

It can get irritating, he'll admit, and he knows Yukari is holding her tongue a great deal of the time. He doesn't have the heart to tell her, though, she's just so damned pure. And he owes his well-being, hell, his everything to her. He trusts her, he trusts her with his life, because he always has, in a way. And he's still here.

So when Aigis tells him to stay away from Ryoji at all costs, he does his best to obey.

Sometimes, he learns, his best isn't enough.

xii.

Some things come in sets:

\- unbuttoned shirts

\- undone belts

\- tears

xiii.

They never talk. They can't. What is there to say?

And so they just watch each other, out of breath, like one day it'll all just click into place.

xiv.

It does, but by then it's too late.

It's during the Dark Hour he finally calls. Ryoji picks up, cheerful as always, if a bit sleepy. It's over.

xv.

Time's up.

The thing under the smile, he learns, is Death's humanity.

xvi.

Anything that is possible happens in another world. Every choice changes everything.

The date is December 31st, 2009. What has happened to this instance of Minato Arisato is what it is. If he were stronger, purer, truer, maybe things would've been different.

Instead, he looks into those wide blue eyes one last time, seals the universe with a bloody kiss, and pulls the trigger.


End file.
